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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821279">The Pyramids that Built Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineTemptress543/pseuds/SunshineTemptress543'>SunshineTemptress543</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Sex, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archaeologist, Archaeologist Harry, Blood and Injury, Bottom Louis, Cleopatra - Freeform, Dead Parents, Drug Addiction, Egyptology, Emotional Abuse, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Harry is a dick, Heartbreak, Homophobia, Illegal Homosexuality, Intoxication, M/M, Multi, Non-Famous Louis Tomlinson, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Romance, Smoking, Top Harry, Zayn Malik &amp; Louis Tomlinson Friendship, harry gets arrested, historian louis, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis is super smart, probably not historically accurate, very artful smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28821279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineTemptress543/pseuds/SunshineTemptress543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been over a year since Louis woke up in Cairo to a window that had been blown open by desert winds and a new beginning. Over a year since he packed up all that he owned to find a purpose buried in stacks of articles and artifacts. Sure, he hasn't found it yet, but it was coming. He knew it. </p><p>What happens when a brooding archaeologist with a twisted past and a knack for getting on Louis' nerves moves into the office next to his? Will they find enough common ground between them to uncover the past, or will a series of cursed events stand in the way of what both of them are so desperately searching for? </p><p>***********<br/>Basically I've had bits of pieces of this written for almost a year and now I'm finally doing this.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles &amp; Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles/Other(s), Louis Tomlinson/Original Male Character(s), Zayn Malik/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the personification of the statue of david</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!! I've never published fanfiction before, but I've been working on this for almost a year and I've decided that what better time to publish something than when I'm stuck inside for lockdown #2. I hope you like it :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Four hundred and fifty-two. </p><p>Four hundred and fifty-two days since Louis woke up on the other side of the world to a window that had blown wide open during a desert wind storm. Four hundred and fifty-two days since he packed up his entire life to move across the world to Cairo, Egypt. A place where the sun shone far too bright, and the sand stuck to his skin in the most uncomfortable ways. </p><p>Still, he was happy. </p><p>Being in Cairo and buried in mountains of archives and artifacts and research makes Louis the happiest he’s ever been. Sure, he missed his sisters. Sure, he ran across the world after his mum died because he couldn’t handle the grief. Sure, three hundred and 25 of those days have been like living through hell. </p><p>But, he was happy. </p><p>“Louis,” came a familiar voice through the barely-there crack in his door. “Lateef needs the fifth-floor archives redone by 7:00. Wanted me to pass along since you’re not answering your emails.” </p><p>Louis groaned, all but slamming his head down onto the mound of papers laid out in front of him. How ironic was it that the man who was currently making his life difficult carried a name that meant ‘mild and kind’? </p><p>“Tell Lateef he can do it himself,” Louis mumbled, as he peeled himself off of his desk and climbed his way through the clutter to the door, swinging it open. </p><p>“You really should clean your space, mate.” Said the dark-haired man who leaned against his doorframe, a smug smile pulling on his lips. </p><p>“Thank you, Zayn. I’ll consider it after I finish organizing an entire museum.” If Louis had a best friend in Cairo, Zayn was it. The man came from London but had lived in Cairo longer than half of Louis’ siblings have been alive. Not unlike Louis, Zayn had been one of the front running historians in their field. They had run in the same academic circles when Louis was at Cambridge and had used a bit of the man’s research in his dissertation. They had formed a quick working relationship after that, and when Louis was looking for field placements for his second Ph.D. Zayn had pulled some strings to get him down to Cairo so he could work first hand with the artifacts he was studying. That’s how he ended up here, drowning in paperwork a year and a half later. </p><p>It was an easy friendship. The two of them worked well together, had drinks after work, and left it at that. </p><p>In some ways, they were complete opposites. While Louis tended to be nervous and hesitant in everything (besides his work) that he does, Zayn walked around with an air of confidence. No one dared tell Zayn what to do if they weren’t sure if they were in the exact place to do so. Louis admired that about him; and though he tried to emulate that, Louis fell short. It wasn’t that Louis was shy, by all means. There had been many times over the years that Louis had been the life of the party, but he was still establishing himself in Cairo. He didn’t have the name or the title that Zayn carried with him. When there were jobs that needed to be done that no one else wanted to do, they landed on Louis’ desk. It was work the interns could do. Hell, it was work Louis had done when he had first started there; meek and naive and still learning the ropes when it came to working on site. Filing and archiving everything in the museum until his eyes got so screwed up that he couldn’t decipher A from B. At this point, Louis considered himself a glorified librarian and not the historian he had come here to be. </p><p>“When was the last time I held an artifact in my hand?” Louis huffed out as he looked up at Zayn. He loved it here, he was living the dream. He just needed to do what he was here to do, which was research, and work on dig sites and make a name for himself. Not taking note of every bit of information they had in the museum. “And don’t give me the ‘you’ve got to work your way up’ speech. I’ve worked my way up. I’ve done all the grunt work.” Louis held up a folder as an example for dropping it into another pile with a look of disdain. </p><p>“Your time will come, mate. Gotta be patient. Something will fall in your lap.” Louis rolled his eyes, hearing the same thing from Zayn and sisters on a regular basis. Be patient. It’s coming. You just need that one spark of creation. </p><p>“Right. Just waiting for something to fall from the ceiling, as always. Isis give me strength.” It wasn’t meant to be said out loud, but when he looked back at Zayn and was met with a familiar roll of the eyes, he gave him an apologetic smile before fixing the glasses on his nose. </p><p>Zayn believed in him, he really did. But there was only so much of Louis’ complaining that he could take. It was common ground for the two of them, and nothing that Louis ever took personally. Louis would get stuck in these holes, thinking he made the wrong decision to stay out here after his dissertation was done. Zayn, who had been the one to bring him out here in the first place, usually just gave him a playful hit to the back of his head. “Don’t insult my passion project.” Zayn had once said during one of their late nights at the museum. It had taken Louis a few days to figure out that he had been talking about him. </p><p>“Did you hear about the new resident archaeologist they just hired?” Zayn asked as Louis turned back around into his mess of an office, switching the electric kettle on as he passed. </p><p>“They hired someone already?” He deadpanned, not entirely enthused about the prospect of another archaeologist. The last had been a disaster, in more ways than one. </p><p>“Just don’t sleep with this one, and everything will be fine.” Zayn pointed out, easily dodging the eraser that Louis chucked at his head as soon as the words left his mouth. </p><p>“Oi. Fuck off.” Louis mumbled, pouring himself a cup of tea to avoid looking at Zayn in the eyes. It wasn’t like he planned on sleeping with the last one. It had just happened. He also hadn’t planned on ruining a marriage he didn’t exactly know had existed in the first place. </p><p>The thought still made him sick. </p><p>“Trust me, I don’t plan on sleeping with anyone. I’ve sworn off that. I’m all work, no play.” While that was probably not entirely true, Louis tried to make himself believe it. It was easier that way. If he was able to keep everything focused on his work, then there was no way he could ever end up getting hurt. There was no way he’d be able to go through that kind of heartbreak again. </p><p>“Right. Well. Fifth-floor archives. 7:00.” That was all that Zayn offered as he pushed himself up off the wall. </p><p>Louis leaned back in his chair, watching the man walk away as he took in the area around him. How had this become his life? He’d accepted the job of his dreams, working as a historian in a museum in Cairo. He was paid well. He was focused and good at his job, held in high regard by the people who worked for him. Hell, he had two Ph.D.'s and a Master's degree. </p><p>But there was one thing he was missing. </p><p>Louis forgot what actual happiness felt like. Sure, there were moments. Flickers of light that would come through the darkness that clouded his mind. Like waking up to the view of the pyramids in the distance, or the smell of warm desert sand. It was there, creeping in the back everything he did, but never close enough for him to reach back and grab a hold of it. At this point, ‘happiness’ was a concept. The unattainable goal that Louis always found himself looking forward to. </p><p>One day he would find it. </p><p>One day he would be happy. </p><p>He just had to keep telling himself that, because if he didn’t he’d sink back into the darkness that raced neck and neck with happiness in an attempt to drag him under. </p><p>He didn’t know how long he sat staring at the mess that was in his office. Stacks on stacks of papers piled around the room, crowded every available workspace like he was stocking up for some paper-apocalypse. It wasn’t that it was unorganized, he knew where everything he needed was, it just wasn’t organized in any particular way, much like himself. Somewhat chaotic, Louis had no real plan. He took things as they came. It was never a matter of him being able to get his job done because he always did. It always just ended up adding the chaos. He’d been like since he was a kid. His mother had called him a “hurricane of a boy”. One that left disaster in its wake. Louis had tried to be organized. He had all the tools, all the motivation to do so, but there was something safe about the chaos. It filled the empty spaces and made it easier to forget they were there in the first place. </p><p>Eventually, he pulled himself out of his mind and focused on the computer in front of him. 5th Floor archives, he thought to himself, pulling up the database on his aging computer. Blue eyes scanned the catalogs on Cleopatra to find a series of asterisks placed beside certain articles That meant somebody had requested them to be put aside. His interest perked up as he made note of everything the anonymous person had put aside. It was strange, nobody had touched the Cleopatra stuff since he’d started. People had scanned through them, sure, but to be taking out documents usually meant that something was in the works. Something that Louis wanted to get his hands on. </p><p>A little too quickly for his feet, he scrambled to grab the catalog from his printer, knocking over a few folders in the process. That was for him to deal with later, right now he needed to get up to the archives. He needed to see who was taking the risk, who was trying to uncover something nobody had dared to try before. </p><p>With an energetic dash, he made his way out of his stuffy office and into the cool air in the hallway, not noticing the body that was coming directly towards him as he turned from his door, promptly knocking the box out of the other person’s hands. </p><p>“Oh my god, I am so-“</p><p>“Jesus, can’t you watch where-“</p><p>Louis stopped, taken aback by the annoyance in the man’s tone. Something he would’ve deemed unnecessary if anybody had asked. </p><p>“As I was saying, I’m sorry. Didn’t see you.” He eventually continued after being taken aback. It was a little more cutting than he had meant it to be, but the other man had started it. </p><p>From where he was piling things back into the cardboard box, the other man looked up. It took Louis a second to really grasp the picture in front of him. The man was like something out of his old mythology books he had when he was growing up. Sharp angles, curled hair, muscles clearly on display from his practically unbuttoned linen shirt. Had he been stuck inside his office too long? Was he starting to hallucinate? It honestly wouldn’t surprise Louis at this point. </p><p>“— Are you daft? Haven’t listened to a word I’ve said.” The other man scoffed, the familiar sound of a Cheshire accent ringing through his ears. </p><p>“Sorry, again. Bit of a day.” Louis huffed out, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. It had been an accident, something Louis hadn’t done on purpose to ruin the other man’s day, yet here he was, glaring at him as if he’d just kicked his dog. </p><p>“Right. If you wouldn’t mind moving, then. That would be swell.” The man rolled his eyes, feigning a polite smile as he tilted his chin towards the door next to his. Louis couldn’t help but let out a breath of annoyance at the man’s attitude. It was obvious he was new to the floor, with his box of things clutched far too easily under his arm. He made a mental note to avoid the Greek God at every possible chance he could get. </p><p>“Right. Sorry. Again.” Louis said as he stepped out of the way so the other man could push past him. He watched him fumble with the key, making no offer to help though he knew full well how finicky the locks on the office doors could be before the man disappeared inside the office next to his. Great, Louis though, pushing a hand through his hair, now I’ve got to work next to him. Even more of a reason to avoid him at every opportunity. The last thing Louis needed was a dark cloud like that infecting what little bit of light he had left. </p><p>Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he remembered his task at hand: organize the Cleopatra Archives and figure out who’s taken out the documents so he could get himself on the project. This was what he wanted — no, needed — right now. A project like this would pull Louis out of the rut he’d been stuck in, to finally get to prove himself to the people around him that he was more than the man who ruined a marriage.  With one final check to the lock on his door, he took off towards the elevators. But not without sparing a glance to Mr. Probably-the-Human-Version-of-the-Statue-of-David’s door as he passed. </p><p>Harry Styles, Resident Archaeologist.  </p><p>“Goddammit.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. that truth should be silent i had almost forgot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*~* people actually read the first chapter?????? i almost cried. wow. *~*</p>
<p>I'm going to start updating (hopefully) every day. But I cant make any promises because I really enjoy sleep. </p>
<p>okay okay. enjoy. let me know what you think!!!!</p>
<p>{Also. chapter title is a quote from Antony and Cleopatra.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Louis was a kid he used to pretend he was Indiana Jones. His mum had loved the movies, made Louis watch them at a young age. And, since then, all he ever wanted to do was study history. Every Christmas, though they didn’t have a lot of money, he’d get one of those big picture books. At 7 it was on Greek Mythology, at 8 it was Evolution, at 9 he got one on the Medieval period, and then at 11, right when Louis had started thinking he might want to be a football player like all the other kids, his mum had given him a book on Ancient Egypt. </p>
<p>That was it for Louis. There was nothing he wanted to be more than a historian. It helped that he was gifted, top of his class in all his A-levels, valedictorian of his graduating class at Cambridge, and published by 22. His path in life was as clear as day. </p>
<p>Of course, this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he finished his Ph.D.’s.</p>
<p>“Mild and kind, my ass.” Louis mumbled under his breath as he finished putting the last of the files from box #5 on the shelf, “nobody who is mild and kind would leave this to one person.” He was already on hour three of sorting through nearly 15 boxes of old archives and only a third of the way through. This really had to be a joke. Some twisted prank on Louis just to make his day even worse than it already had been. The that were files left up here had to have been untouched for over a year if the thick layer of dust told him anything. It was almost like people had tossed boxes in there without a care for the person who had to put it away. </p>
<p>Which, in this case, was Louis’ gift for the day. </p>
<p>It wasn’t too bad if Louis was honest. Sure, maybe his hands were dry and cracked from working with old papers and his eyes were watering from the dust circling around the room, but it was a change of pace from being stuck in his office all day. The archives were interesting enough, too. Bits and pieces from Cleopatra’s reign during the Ptolemaic era drew Louis in with an interested hum. There wasn’t much if he was honest. A lot of what they knew relied heavily on archaeological findings from various dig sites, maps, and myths that they compared their findings too. </p>
<p>There was something so intriguing about the mystery. About the fact that Cleopatra was, essentially, a legend. Something no one had ever been able to locate. They had no first-hand accounts, they had no solid evidence of where she was hidden. It was a mystery that Louis wanted to uncover piece by piece. She was The Unobtainable. The one every sought out to find, but never came up with anything more than a few hieroglyphics and some broken clay. </p>
<p>Louis wanted it all. </p>
<p>But he wasn’t the first, nor would he be the last. Besides, someone else decided to take on the risk before Louis could even think about approaching a project like that. The stack of binders put aside on the front desk was a constant reminder of that. </p>
<p>Absorbed in a file filled with information on Cleopatra’s co-reign with her brother, Louis disappeared into his mind like he often did. Planning maps, figuring out the world around him in relation to the information he knew. It was almost like he could see himself on the dig site, his sleeves rolled up his arms and dirt covering his face as the uncovered piece after piece that would lead them directly to where Cleopatra was hiding. </p>
<p>He was so far gone in his fantasy that he didn’t hear the door open. </p>
<p>“Hello?” Came a voice that all but grabbed Louis by the collar and yanked him back to reality with a shock to his system. </p>
<p>He wasn’t on a dig site. He was sat on the floor between rows of dusty archives. Already an hour behind on all the work he had to do. </p>
<p>“Hi. Sorry. Give me a mo’?” Louis called out to whoever had stepped into the room as he pulled himself up from the ground. He wiped some of the dust off his hands and onto his slacks and did his best to fix the fringe over his forehead so he didn’t look like some creature who’d been pulled out of a tomb. </p>
<p>In a matter of seconds, Louis was climbing over the boxes he had sorted through and stepped into the faint fluorescent lights only to come face to face with the Adonis from the office hallway. Every bit of hope for a pleasant conversation with someone quickly disappeared.</p>
<p>“Didn’t think you’d be the librarian.” The man scoffed—  Harry Styles, as Louis remembered— with a roll of his eyes. What was he even doing here anyway? If it was his first day in office, then surely he had sorting of his own to go through. </p>
<p>“Excuse me?” Louis asked, crossing his arms defensively. </p>
<p>“You. The librarian. I mean, you definitely look the part.” Harry chuckled reaching forward for one of the binders stacked on the table. </p>
<p>Louis looked down at his outfit. There was nothing wrong with a sweater vest and a button-up. It was comfortable, practical, and made him look professional. A lot of people where sweater vests, Louis had defended himself when Lottie had rolled her eyes at one of his outfits over dinner. It’s not as warm as a sweater but still looks professional. Louis still stood by that argument. </p>
<p>“I’m not the librarian.” Louis huffed, trying to look as annoyed as he felt. Only for it to fall short when Harry glanced back at him with an amused smile.</p>
<p> “Right then, Mr. Not-The-Librarian. Can you find me someone who can help, then?” Harry asked, continuing to flip through the archives he had in his hands. Louis didn’t understand the attitude. Harry was new here. He was a resident archaeologist who had a few months to convince the team that he was worth keeping on. If Louis had more nerve, he would’ve reminded him of that. </p>
<p>“I’m the only one here, so. You’ll have to deal with me.” Louis offered, just wanting to get the arrogant man out of the room so he could get this done and go home. “And you really shouldn’t be touching those. They’ve been put aside.” Louis’ instruction was met with another amused smile from Harry, but a nodded resolve nonetheless. The man put the binder down, lining it up perfectly with the other ones with as little as a glance back to Louis. </p>
<p>The room fell silent for a moment like the two of them were expecting the other to speak. This was why Louis didn’t do small talk, why he didn’t like having to get to know strangers. There was always so much silence that threatened to drown him. It was easier with the noise. The clutter. </p>
<p>“Anyway,” Louis finally said, letting out an exasperated sigh, “what was it that you needed?” Arching an eyebrow, he looked over the man in front of him. It really wasn’t fair. Harry stood there looking like something carved out of marble, someone Roman Emperors would model themselves after. If Louis didn’t have such a horrible first impression of him, he’d consider him objectively attractive. But any chance of that had been ruined in the hallway a few hours ago. </p>
<p>“You know what,” Harry started, a smirk pulling at his lips. The same knowingly mysterious smirk he’d already seen a handful of times. Louis was quickly starting to hate that smirk. “Think I’ll come back. You’ve obviously got your hands full.” Another pause. Another knowing smirk. “Thanks, Tomlinson.” </p>
<p>Before Louis could even realize that he’d been called by his last name, Harry was slipping out the doors of the archives and shutting it behind himself. He didn’t remember introducing himself to the man. He didn’t even remember Harry taking a glance at his office door during their first encounter. The feeling that ran through him pricked beneath his skin and made him want to tug the collar off of his vest until he could breathe properly again. Maybe he was spending too much time locked up inside. </p>
<p>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p>
<p>“So, he just…..knew your name?” Zayn asked over a glass of wine at dinner that night, giving Louis a confused look from the rim as he tipped it back to finish off what was left. They didn’t always go out after work, but Louis needed out of the confines of his crowded office and the empty space in his flat. Tonight, their spot of choice was a restaurant downtown— one with a patio that overlooked the city.</p>
<p>“I think you’re just reading into it,” Nailah, Zayn’s fiancé piped up after listening to the two men go over every possible situation as to how Harry knew who he was. If there was anyone in the world who was a perfect match for Zayn, it was Nailah. Equally as smart as she was beautiful, the two of them looked too much like the couples Louis used to see in magazines for it to be fair. It was a good thing they were together, or nobody else would ever stand a chance. </p>
<p>“No, no. No. You don’t get it. There’s this— this. Feeling. And he does this awful smirk like he knows something we don’t. It’s arrogant. Awfully arrogant.” Louis huffed, leaning back in his chair as he looked out towards the street level. There were people milling about, enjoying the warmth of the Egyptian night. All of them none the wiser to the crisis Louis seemed to be navigating in his mind. </p>
<p>Egypt really was beautiful. It was nothing compared to the pictures, of course. But there was a lot of beauty here. Stunning architecture, intriguing history. It already held so many memories, even though he’d been here for just a short time. Nights spent at the museum, opening an exhibit with Zayn, the first time Lottie came to visit, and they road through the desert on the camel back.  </p>
<p> If 12-year-old Louis could see him now he’d hope he would be proud of him.</p>
<p>“— and if you just ask him, I’m sure he’ll explain.” Louis tuned back in as Nailah finished speaking, a sheepish smile on his face as an apology. “Of course. Didn’t hear a word I said.” The woman huffed with a fond twinkle in her eyes, glancing over at Zayn with the same smile.  This was Louis' little makeshift family. The closest he’d get to feeling absolutely secure in this city. </p>
<p>“Think I’m just going to ignore him.” Louis resolved with a shrug of his shoulders, taking the final sip of his wine as an end to the conversation. That was all there was to it. It might be immature— and that seemed to be exactly what the pair across was thinking as they rolled their eyes—  but he was under no obligation to speak to Harry Styles. They didn’t have to work together if they didn’t want to, they didn’t even have to be in the same room. </p>
<p>Louis made a promise to himself at that moment to make sure that never happens. It was just better this way.</p>
<p>Easier. </p>
<p>Safer.</p>
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